Down the street, off the highway where I hit you,
You can find me - atleast we hope so.
Move this rock; I may have been buried,
And I don't know if I can save another flower you left for Winter's heat.
I've woken up, screaming at you, for no reason.
You let me go too soon, and I'm chasing after you.
This is all I wanted to do with you, but my mouth is dry and I can't sleep.
These letters to you won't spell out all you mean to me.
I won't try to say I'm real, but there's nothing I can taste right now.
We all know we're synthetic, when we grew up in Mercedes Benz,
And the rain's just not enough to keep washing this off,
The rest of us so that we can move on.
I have loved you. J'adore vous for so long.
So ask Nero if we've found what we're looking for,
Because his cross says so much, when it hits us hard enough.
We're waking up under sheets made of what we've consumed,
And of everything we think we are. What I think I am.
But nothing's okay, and I know that I am nothing.
